Broken Mirror
by Talespinner69
Summary: After he failed to convince his family that he wasn't bad luck, Lincoln Loud decides that, rather than come up with a way to earn back his family's trust and love, he'd instead leave Royal Woods as a whole, unsure what the future has in store for him.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Loud House' or any other property in this work that I did not make myself.

Broken Mirror

Chapter one: Alone

Lincoln Loud could not believe it. His own family is refusing to allow him back into the house on the basis that they believe him to be bad luck. Granted, this was partly Lincoln's own doing; before all of the messy business of his family believing him to be bad luck started, Lincoln's older sister Lynn threatened him with a baseball bat into attending a game she was playing. When Lynn's team just so happened to have lost that game, Lynn automatically declared Lincoln to be bad luck, on the basis that it was the first game that Lincoln ever came to, and thereafter barred Lincoln from ever coming to any of her games ever again. Lynn soon spread her belief of the sole Loud boy being bad luck to the rest of the Loud clan, which made them bar Lincoln from coming to any of their events as well.

At first, Lincoln rolled with it, even embraced it a little bit, because he was finally getting what Lynn essentially denied him that fateful morning; alone time. But then Lincoln started to regret this when the family excluded him from going to a movie with them. And things only started go down from there; they boarded up his room to keep him from sleeping in the house which forced him into the backyard, refused to believe his confession on the basis that good things just so happened to have occurred to them while Lincoln was absent, and now they were forcing him to back away from the house, with the curtains closing at the end of a conversation.

"Ugh!" the sole Loud boy swore to himself in a frustrated tone, "Lynn and her superstitions! As long as she thinks I'm bad luck, I'm doomed. I have to find a way to prove her wrong."

As Lincoln shook some acorns out of his pants, he began to think about how he could go about proving his sporty older sister wrong about him. The sole Loud boy sincerely, desperately wanted to be taken back in by his family, and was at this point willing to do just about anything he could think of if he believed it would give him even the barest chance of once again being a member of his family. However, around the time the acorns he shook out of his pants gave him an idea on how he could go about trying to win back his family's support, Lincoln was suddenly struck by a thought.

" _Why should I even_ try _to get back into my family_?" Lincoln thought sadly.

His own family just kicked him out of the house, without so much as a blip of remorse, all because he wanted some time to himself. Was it really that much of a sin for Lincoln to want to be alone for a few hours? To rest and recharge doing the things that he wanted to do after having to go to so many of his sisters' events? If the events starting on the day of that fateful game of Lynn's was anything to go by, then yes, it _was_ a sin for Lincoln to want to be by himself for a few hours. And now the sole Loud boy's family was forcing him to pay for that sin of his by all but saying that he was no longer a member of the family. Dejectedly, Lincoln turned around and began to walk away from the place that he had once called home, a place that the sole Loud boy felt that he could never return to again.

" _Well fine_ ," Lincoln thought bitterly as he continued to walk, exiting the neighborhood that he lived in and eventually making his way into the city proper of Royal Woods, " _If my family thinks that they_ ' _re better off without me_ , _then I_ ' _ll just save them any further trouble from here on out_. _I guess that I_ ' _m getting my wish for some alone time_ …" Turning around, Lincoln saw that he had made his way to the outskirts of Royal Woods; the next exit would take him out of the city in which he was born, and into whatever the future had in store for him now. Turning back around, Lincoln looked down at the ground, a sad look on his eleven-year-old face, before he continued to make his way out into the unknown.

"… _For the rest of my life_ ," was the last thing Lincoln thought while he still lived in the city he was born and raised in.

* * *

Lincoln had no idea how much distance he had walked since he decided to abandon his old life. He had walked throughout the night, and by the time it was morning, the boy without a family was seriously aching, not to mention being dead tired from having walked all night. As soon as he found a place he felt he could rest at, a burger joint of some kind, Lincoln found an unoccupied booth that was partly obscured from the view of the front counter, sat down, and promptly fell asleep. He slept for about forty-five minutes until he was gently shaken awake by one of the employees of the burger joint, a girl that Lincoln estimated to be about the same age as Lori, one of his ex-sisters. In fact, Lincoln felt that this girl looked a lot like Lori back when Lori went through her quote unquote 'awkward phase'.

"Excuse me, but are you okay, kid?" the older girl asked in a concerned tone.

Stifling a yawn, the boy without a family said, "I'm just tired. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Are you here alone?" the older girl asked, her tone unchanging, "Where are your parents?"

"Parents?" Lincoln replied with more than a hint of bitterness seeping into his tone, "What parents? I don't _have_ parents. Or _any_ family for that matter."

The response from the boy without a family shocked the older girl. "Oh geez, I'm really sorry about that, kid," the older girl replied. Looking around a bit at first, the older girl then turned back to face Lincoln and said, "You want I should get something made up for you? You don't have to pay for it." Lincoln was surprised by the older girl's offer; it was true that Lincoln hadn't have anything to eat since before his failed confession to his family, and he did walk who knows how far from the place that he used to call home. Lincoln was lucky (ha!) enough to have some money on hand, but the boy without a family knew that due to the life that he was now being forced to live, what little money he had on hand would soon dry up. If this older girl was offering to get him something to eat, then who was Lincoln to say no?

Weakly getting up from his seat, Lincoln said to the older girl, "Can I at least take a look at the menu first?" Smiling, the older girl led Lincoln over to the front counter, and waited while the boy without a family placed his order. Not wanting to be too greedy, Lincoln got a relatively small meal consisting of a chicken sandwich (without mayo), a serving of fries, and a fountain drink. Lincoln sprang for the largest size of the fountain drink, and relied on the free refills a lot until he felt that he got his fill. Thanking the girl for her generosity while silently hoping that she won't get in trouble for getting him a free meal, Lincoln took his leave from the place before anyone who would think to contact the police or CPS or anyone else along those lines would do so under the belief that Lincoln was actually an orphan, rather than just a runaway.

…But then again, for all Lincoln cared at this point, he might as well _be_ an orphan.

* * *

For his new life in…whatever the name of this city he came to was, Lincoln knew that he was going to have to figure out how to live. The boy without a family figured that he could not reasonably count on reliably getting free meals whenever it was time for breakfast or lunch or dinner. Lincoln knew that he was going to have to make his way on his own. The first thing he would have to do was get some more clothes; having decided to run away due to a spur-of-the-moment idea, coupled with the fact that he couldn't get back into his room back at the house where he once lived even if he tried, the only clothes that Lincoln had on hand were the clothes that he was wearing, which were undoubtedly not perfectly clean by now. Lincoln managed to get that problem squared away by visiting a church where, once he explained that he essentially had no one, he was given some clothes from the clothes donation bin, along with a backpack and a Ziploc bag full of personal care and hygiene products.

With three XXL t-shirts (admittedly somewhat big for a boy his size), two pairs of pants that were a few inches too big, an unopened pack of socks, an unopened pack of boy's underwear and a belt (thank goodness for that, otherwise he'd be pulling his pants up all day) in his new backpack, Lincoln made his way to someplace with a restroom. Going into one of the stalls, Lincoln changed into some of his new clothes, then exited when he was done. After that, the boy without a family proceeded to find a more private place to rest. Finding the local public library, Lincoln found a secluded area behind some bookshelves. Sitting down at the table there, Lincoln relaxed and soon fell asleep, his new backpack serving as a pillow.

Once he rested enough, Lincoln took his leave from the public library and began to look around town. Over the next hour Lincoln spent looking around the city that was going to be his new home, Lincoln took observational notes of where certain places were located. Lincoln also made sure to pick up any loose change that he found lying on the ground; knowing that money was going to be hard for him to come by, Lincoln had to take what he could get, when he could get it. By sometime mid to late afternoon, Lincoln wandered on by a bodega store that was in the city. Lincoln was lucky enough to scrounge up roughly a dollar and a half in change in the hour he had spent walking around, plus there was still the money that he had on hand when he ran away if it came down to it, so Lincoln figured that he could get something cheap to eat.

Entering the bodega store, Lincoln was greeted by an older Hispanic man that was behind the store's counter; Lincoln assumed that this man was the one who ran, possibly even owned, the place. "Hello there, young man," the Hispanic man greeted in a friendly tone, "What brings you on by?"

"I don't suppose there's any candy here, is there?" Lincoln asked as he proceeded to fish out some of his hard-gathered change, "Or maybe one of those wrapped cinnamon rolls?"

"That aisle right there will be what you'd want to browse," the Hispanic man replied as he pointed the way, "All I ask is that you leave your bag at the front of the store by the counter." Lincoln nodded once in thanks before he took his backpack off and leaned it against the one end of the counter before going to browse the candy and snack cake aisle of the bodega store. Once he found something within the budget presented by his loose change that he gathered, Lincoln went to the front of the store to pay for his snack. The older Hispanic man was even kind enough to knock the price of the snack Lincoln was buying, a wrapped cinnamon roll, down to one whole dollar, instead of a dollar and some odd amount of change.

"Thanks, mister…" Lincoln began, but trailed off due to not knowing the man's name.

Chuckling in good humor, the older Hispanic man replied, "The name's Hector Casagrande." With a mildly amused smile, Hector asked, "And what's your name?"

"Lincoln," the boy without a family replied.

"Lincoln…what?" Hector asked, pressing for more info.

Shaking his head gently in the negative, Lincoln replied, "Just Lincoln."

"You don't have a last name, young man?" Hector asked, looking mildly shocked.

With another gentle head shake in the negative, Lincoln said, "No. I don't have any name except my first name." After the boy without a family gave his response, Hector gave him a quick head-to-toe look. The older Hispanic man saw the signs for what they were; clearly oversized clothes that must have been obtained from the clothes donation at the local church, a relatively new looking plastic backpack with the images of popular cartoon characters, the fact that this boy had paid for his snack with loose change that must have been gathered up off of the ground due to how dirty it looked…Hector first thought that Lincoln and his family wasn't in the best financial situation in the world, but with what Lincoln had just said, the older Hispanic man felt as if his old heart was ripped out and grounded under someone's heel.

"You…you want I should call someone who can help?" Hector asked the boy without a family. In response, Lincoln held up his hand in a gesture to decline while he shook his head.

"I'll be fine," Lincoln replied, a hint of sadness in his tone, "I have been ever since I first became alone." Slipping his backpack on, Lincoln continued, "I don't see any reason why that should be changing anytime soon."

The look of confliction was clear on Hector's face. This Lincoln boy couldn't be any older than his granddaughter who lived with her mother and older brother in some city in the next state over, and yet he was insisting that he would be fine more or less living on the streets. There was also the issue with that group of local youths who have taken to trying to make this city their personal stomping grounds; Hector was afraid that this poor boy would fall in with that group, or worse yet, cross their path in the wrong manner, and pay the ultimate price for it. Hector wanted to do something to help Lincoln, but he didn't want to risk pushing the boy without a family into any areas that might be uncomfortable for him. But the older Hispanic man was not going let this boy go without helping him in at least some manner.

"You…at least want to get something else from the store?" Hector offered, then quickly added, "No more than ten dollars' worth, though." Once again, Lincoln was being presented with something free to eat. It made him feel guilty that he was eating mainly due to the generosity of others, but given that he had just started out in this new life of his, Lincoln had to take what he could get. Determined to find someway to start earning some money as soon as he was able, Lincoln accepted Hector's offer. The boy without a family collected a spread that was worth exactly nine dollars and forty-seven cents; this spread consisted of a two-liter bottle of his favorite soda, a few packs of s'mores-flavored toaster treats, two more wrapped cinnamon rolls, and a snack-sized bag of honey mustard-and-onion flavored pretzel bits.

"…Huh, well I'll be," Hector said as he looked at what Lincoln gathered.

A concerned look on his face, Lincoln asked, "Is this too much?"

"No, it's under ten dollars," Hector replied as he assured the boy without a family, "It's just that…that my granddaughter has a similar taste in snacks as you."

A mildly surprised look on his face, Lincoln replied, "Really?"

Nodding once in the affirmative, Hector said, "She likes this brand of root beer, the s'mores flavored toaster treats is her favorite flavor, and she also has a liking for cinnamon rolls. Only the pretzel bits are off, although they're a personal favorite of mine." Chuckling to himself, Hector continued, "Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were a member of my family, what with how your tastes match up so well to those of me and my granddaughter.

With a smile that carried a hint of sadness, Lincoln replied, "That does sound kind of nice." After thanking Hector once again, Lincoln took his leave from the bodega store.

* * *

Making his way into the city proper, the boy without a family found a local grocery store. Walking to behind the store, Lincoln found someplace private so he could sit down and have a makeshift meal consisting of the snacks and soda he got from the bodega store. When he was done eating, Lincoln got up and eventually made his way over to a local park. Making his way into the inside of one of the playsets located on park property, Lincoln settled down and, with the exhaustion of his journey to this city and the first day of his new life catching up to him, Lincoln did what any runaway child would do in his situation.

He fell asleep.

END, BROKEN MIRROR CHAPTER ONE

Author's notes:

This is the first Loud House story that I put up here. I know the trope of 'No Such Luck' response fics has pretty much been beaten into the ground at this point, but I'm honestly doing this story as something of an exercise. I actually have two other Loud House stories that I've been working, one being a collection of one-shots and the other a twenty-seven-chapter multi-arc story (that's actually already finished). I'm getting this story up first because I want to gauge how well I can write for a show that isn't an anime.

Oh, and spoiler alert; you're going to start to see why this story has such a high rating starting in the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Loud House' or any other property in this work that I did not make myself.

Broken Mirror

Chapter two: Punk Monarchs

After waking up in a playset located on the property of a local park, Lincoln Loud, now just Lincoln, crawled out of the playset that served as his shelter during the night. Gathering up his backpack, the boy without a family made his way into the city proper and looked around for a place that had a bathroom. Finding one such place that would serve his interests, Lincoln went into one of the stalls in the men's restroom, changed into one of the clean shirts and one of the clean pairs of pants that he got from the local church, made use of the deodorant stick that came in the bag of personal care and hygiene products, then made his way out into the city that was now his new hometown.

Counting the money that he had on hand at the time he ran away, plus what little loose change he was able to gather since coming to this city, Lincoln had twenty-one dollars and seventy-four cents. The boy without a family knew full well that this roughly twenty-two bucks would not last him forever, so he would begin looking for a way to earn some income starting today. But first, he needed to find some place to settle down a bit to have breakfast, which would consist of the last pack of s'mores-flavored toaster treats he got from the bodega store he visited the previous evening. Lincoln knew that he could not afford to spend any of his meager supply of on-hand money unless it was absolutely necessary.

As Lincoln sat alone in a booth at a local Burpin' Burger (he didn't know until now that Burpin' Burger existed outside of Royal Woods), he overheard two male voices talking in a concerned tone. His curiosity piqued, the boy without a family leaned to his side slightly to see who was talking. As such, he saw two grown men talking to each other as they had breakfast at a nearby booth. The first man he saw was a Hispanic man that Lincoln estimated to be no older than his ex-father; this man wore glasses with a black-colored square frame, a white long-sleeved shirt under a green sweater vest, brown pants, and brown shoes.

Lincoln couldn't get a very good look at the man that the first man was talking to, as he was facing the first man, but the boy without a family guesses that the second man was a fairly slim older Caucasian man in his early eighties at the very least. From what Lincoln saw, the second man wore a long-sleeved plaid shirt, white pants, light brown loafers, and, for some odd reason, one of those hats that men in Ireland have been known to wear (Lincoln saw those kinds of hats before in photos). Hoping that the two men wouldn't catch him trying to listen in on their little conversation, Lincoln strained his hearing a bit so he could try to hear what the two men were talking about.

"…The seventh child in two months, Henry," the first man said to the second in a tone that was a clear mix of worry and righteous anger, "And worse yet, it was a girl from the class that my son CJ belongs to!"

"Isn't he the two-year-old, Carlos?" the second man, apparently named Henry, asked in a clearly concerned tone.

Shaking his head gently in the negative, the first man, apparently named Carlos, replied, "No, Carlitos is my two-year-old, Henry. CJ is my thirteen-year-old. He's my son that's in the special needs class."

"And you said that a girl from his class was the seventh child that the local youth gang got to?" Henry asked. After a somber nod in the affirmative from Carlos, Henry shook his head gently, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I knew that those local punks were horrible little hooligans, but to beat a special needs child?" Hearing that last line made Lincoln take pause; some local punk youths actually _beat_ a special needs girl? What the hell was wrong with them?! And worse yet, that Carlos man said that she was the _seventh_ child that this supposed gang had gotten to. How bad have things gotten?!

Shaking his head gently, Carlos continued, "I don't think that her being a special needs child has any significance, Henry. From what I've read in the local newspaper over the last few months, the kids come from varying walks of life." Sighing in a resigned tone that carried a hint of sadness, Carlos continued, "As far as I can see, the girl from CJ's class was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time when she crossed paths with some of the punks in that youth gang." With a sarcastic chuckle, Carlos added, "At least the local youth gang doesn't discriminate."

"Why hasn't the police done anything yet?" Henry asked his colleague.

Shaking his head gently, Carlos replied, "I have no clue, Henry."

Gently smacking the surface of the table in front of him, Henry said in a frustrated tone, "Pardon my language, Carlos, but this is fucking bullshit! That local youth gang has beaten a total of seven kids to death so far! How many more have to die before the police finally get off of their lazy asses and do something about it?!"

As he listened in on the conversation between Carlos and Henry, Lincoln nearly choked on a bit of s'mores-flavored toaster treat that he was eating. The kids that the youth gang had beaten were beaten to _death_. The boy without a family thought that he was bad off enough as it is, but in light of what the surprisingly foul-mouthed older man had just said, Lincoln felt as if he got off lucky (ha!) by merely being kicked out after being decried as bad luck by one of his ex-sisters. Despite Henry's sudden use of foul language, Carlos took what his colleague said in stride.

"I understand full well how you feel, Henry," Carlos remarked in a resigned yet understanding tone, "Given the age range of the victims, I'm worried that both CJ and Carlino might cross paths with that youth gang. At least my niece lives somewhere in the next state over and not in this city, otherwise I'd be worried about her crossing paths with the youth gang as well." The two men were apparently finished with their breakfast at that point, because they got up, took their trash over to a trash can, left their trays on a stack of trays nearby, then took their leave. After they were gone, Lincoln knew full well that, in addition to finding a way to start earning some money so that he wouldn't have to live off of charity, he was also going to have to find a way to stay as far away from any members of this local youth gang as possible.

* * *

Heading over to the local public library, Lincoln thought that it was a good place to begin his search for a way to start earning a living. Luckily for him, the boy without a family found a copy of the latest issue of the local daily newspaper. He promptly collected the discarded newspaper and began to scan the want ads for any possible job that may be willing to hire an eleven-year-old runaway such as himself. Unfortunately, the only available jobs he found were actually advertisements of local fast food places looking to hire; places such as that required prospective job-seekers to be sixteen years of age at a minimum. Lincoln let out a mild chuckle as he imagined his ex-sister who was obsessed with fashion trying to flip patties at a grill in a place like Burpin' Burger.

Setting down the discarded newspaper, Lincoln left the local library and began to look around the city for anyplace, anyplace at all, that may be willing to give him work in exchange for paying him. But given that he was an eleven-year-old whose greatest academic feat was getting part-way through the fifth grade, the boy without a family wasn't all that confident about finding a way to start earning a living. As he walked, Lincoln accidentally bumped into someone, as he wasn't watching he was going.

"Oof! Sorry!" Lincoln said as he looked up at who he bumped into; it was a Hispanic girl that Lincoln estimated to be roughly in the same age group as his two oldest ex-sisters. The girl wore her long black hair in a ponytail, and her outfit consisted of a simple blue sleeveless dress, one gold stud earring in each earlobe, one orange beaded bracelet, and brown boots that reached slightly up her shins; the tops of pink socks were barely visible above the ends of the boots. She also had a backpack on, indicating that she was a student.

"No, no, I'm the one who bumped into you," the Hispanic girl said in an apologetic tone. Looking down at Lincoln, the Hispanic girl asked, "Are you okay, kid?"

"I'm…just really focused on trying to find a way to earn some money is all," Lincoln replied.

A mildly confused look on her face, the Hispanic girl said, "How old are you, kid?"

"Eleven," Lincoln answered. Upon hearing Lincoln's response, the confused look on the Hispanic girl's face gained a hint of concern.

"Why is a kid your age trying to find a job?" the Hispanic girl asked, "What, do you have a relative whose birthday is coming up, and you're trying to earn money to buy them a gift?"

"Yeah, exactly," the boy without a family lied, believing that this older girl might contact CPS or the police or anyone else along those lines if she found out the real reason why he was trying to find a job.

"Aww, well aren't you the sweetest little kid," the Hispanic girl remarked, "Well, the girls and I in my fashion club at school is looking to get some help with setting up our booth at the school fundraiser that's starting tomorrow. I'm certain that I can convince the other girls to pay you for carrying some boxes and setting up a table or two for us." Lincoln couldn't believe that this older girl he bumped into was, out of the blue, offering him a one-time job. Granted, the boy without a family was desperate for any work he could get his hands on, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was, once again, surviving because he was being offered charity by someone. He wanted to be able to make his way on his own, damn it. …Still, Lincoln had to take what he could get, and if he did well at the older girl's fundraiser, then he might be able to make a reputation as an odd jobs person. That would certainly help.

"That sounds nice, miss…" Lincoln began to reply, but stopped short upon realizing that he didn't have the Hispanic girl's name.

With a bit of a giggle, the girl replied as she gently ruffled the top of Lincoln's head, "My name's Carlota." After removing her hand, Carlota continued, "I don't suppose you can tell me about your family member whose birthday is coming up, can you?"

As far as he was concerned, Lincoln no longer had a family. Still, he felt that it was best to humor this Carlota girl, especially since she was kind enough to offer him a one-time job. "Older sister, roughly my height," Lincoln said as he began to describe who he felt was the worst of his ex-sisters, "Really into sports."

"A girl that's into sports?" Carlota replied, her expression and tone both clearly conveying confusion. With a shrug, Carlota continued, "Meh, I guess there's all sorts of people out there in the world." Regarding Lincoln, Carlota asked, "Do you know how to get to the local High School?" After the boy without a family shook his head gently in the negative, Carlota took her backpack off, opened it, and reached in to grab something. Pulling out a mini spiral-bound agenda, Carlota handed it to Lincoln. It looked like one of those little numbers that were mass produced and handed out at the beginning of a school year.

"Don't worry, I didn't write in it," Carlota remarked, "And I can easily get another one at school. But that's beside the point. You should find my school's address somewhere within the agenda."

Looking up at Carlota, Lincoln gave a small smile, one that carried a hint of sadness, but was overall appreciative. "Thanks," Lincoln replied.

"The fundraiser will start at three in the afternoon," Carlota informed the boy without a family, "The local elementary school should be out by then." Realizing that Carlota must think that he's a student at the local elementary school, Lincoln merely nodded in thanks before he took his leave. As he walked, Lincoln thought about how nice of a person Carlota was; she was _far_ nicer than any of his ex-sisters as far as he was concerned. In fact, the boy without a family felt as if Carlota would make for a much better sister than any of the monsters that he used to refer to as his sisters.

Lincoln bet that Carlota wouldn't decry him as bad luck.

* * *

The following afternoon, Lincoln made his way to the local High School, arriving sometime shortly before three. When Lincoln arrived, he saw that the fundraiser was already in the process of being set up. Within short order, the boy without a family found Carlota; she was talking to two other girls that must have been in the fashion club with her. After making his way over to Carlota and her friends, Lincoln got their attention. "Oh, there you are," Carlota remarked, "You're here a bit earlier than I expected."

"Well you said you and your club needed help with setting up," Lincoln pointed out, "Doesn't set-up take a bit of time to take care of?"

"He's got a point, Carlota," remarked one of the Hispanic girl's two friends, a somewhat pale-skinned girl with freckles and long, straight orange hair in a hime-style cut, with bangs even framing her face. This girl wore a cream-and-green colored hooded sweater-jacket, pants whose legs ended part way down her shins, and open-toed sandals.

"So, this is the little helper you told us about," remarked the other girl with Carlota, a girl who was noticeably but not excessively chubby, but in a way which made her look kind of cute. This girl had long chestnut hair that was a sort-of orange-brownish color, and she wore a white sleeveless dress with yellow trim, a yellow pleated skirt that reached a little more than halfway down her thighs, white stockings with yellow trim, and white shoes. She also wore glasses that had a white frame with yellow accents. Turning to regard Lincoln specifically, Carlota's second friend said, "He looks kind of cute. Made me wish I had a little brother."

"Oh, that reminds me," Carlota said as she turned around and walked to a nearby box that was sitting on the ground. Reaching into the box, Carlota fished around for a bit until she pulled something out. Walking back over to the boy without a family, Carlota said, "It's a little big, and I hope your sporty sister doesn't mind that it's technically a guy's jersey, but I figured that she'd like this as a birthday gift to her from me." Holding it out, Lincoln took a look at the article of clothing that Carlota just tossed to him; it was a professional football team's jersey, sized to fit men such as Lincoln's old neighbor Mr. Grouse. It was purple and yellow-gold in color; Lincoln's ex-sister who was into sports was a fan of the red-and-white professional football team, so much so that she insisted that her roller derby team make their team colors red and white, as a sort-of tribute to her favorite professional football team.

…But then again, Lincoln never intended to get that girl, or any of her sisters, anything ever again. If anything, the boy without a family figured that he could use this jersey himself. As he took of his backpack so he could put the jersey away, Lincoln said, "Thanks. I'm sure my sister will appreciate it."

With a smile that practically glowed, Carlota said, "I may know next to nothing about sports, but when it comes to fashion, I doubt that there's anyone who can beat me! I figure that your sporty sister would like that jersey, given that purple and yellow go well with-"

Carlota was cut off when some panicked shouts could be heard. Turning to see the direction the noise came from, Lincoln, Carlota and Carlota's two friends saw a group of kids of varying ages causing all sorts of trouble; they were knocking over tables, snatching the little money boxes that the booths were going to use to hold the money they earned during the fundraiser (those boxes would typically already have some money inside, incase a customer needed some change back after making a purchase), and even a few assaults. His eyes widening out of alarm, Lincoln said, "What the heck's going on?!"

Turning to face Lincoln and her friends, Carlota said to all three of them, "We got to get to cover. There's no way we can get into an encounter with those youth gang members and come out of it unscathed."

"R-right," Carlota's orange-haired friend replied with a nod as she led Lincoln towards the safety of the High School, with Carlota and the girl in the white-and-yellow outfit following along right behind them.

…

By the time Lincoln, Carlota and Carlota's friends came out of hiding, the youth gang members were already long gone. The boy without a family, along with the three older girls, were shocked with what they saw; every last booth, at least half of which weren't even fully set up at the time, was wrecked. Merchandise from various booths, some of said merchandise being in tatters, was scattered all over the ground. A few High School students were even nursing injuries. "H…how?" Carlota's orange-haired friends said in a tone of subdued shock as she and the others looked at the scene that laid before them.

"Wait a minute," Lincoln said suddenly, getting the attention of the three older girls. Looking up to Carlota specifically, Lincoln said, "Didn't you say something about a local youth gang before we all took cover?"

Her memory sparked by what the boy without a family said, Carlota nodded somberly once in the affirmative. "…Yes, they've been in the news as of late," Carlota began to explain, "They've been a public menace in the city for the last few months or so. Worse yet, the local police are taking forever to do something about it, even though the youth gang has been confirmed to have beaten at least seven kids to death at this point."

"What really shocks me is how they were able to do this much at a high school," Carlota's friend in the white-and-yellow outfit remarked as she gestured to everything around them, "I mean, from all reports that have been made, the youth gang members can't be any older than late elementary to early middle school. Everyone here was either a high school student or an adult working at the high school. I mean, surely there were enough people here to overpower the youth gang members, right?"

Shaking her head gently, Carlota replied, "Given that they've actually killed before, I doubt that anyone here would be willing to take the risk of-" Carlota stopped short when she noticed that Lincoln was starting to try and clean up the mess that was made of the girls' fashion club booth at the fundraiser. "Umm, kid, what are you doing?" Carlota asked.

"We can't let some jerks like that beat everyone down, can we?" Lincoln replied innocently enough, "At the very least, we need to clean up the mess here so that we can try again at a later time." After the explanation from the boy without a family, and as they watched him continuing to clean up, Carlota and her friends were touched by the boy's efforts. Deciding to follow his example, Carlota and her two friends proceeded to help him clean up the mess.

END, BROKEN MIRROR CHAPTER TWO

Author's notes:

The stage is starting to get set for the main conflict that I have in mind for this story. Anywho, the next chapter should see things get a little more intense, especially for Lincoln. Don't worry, though; Lincoln is _not_ going to get seriously hurt/outright killed. Rattled by experiences that he's going to have, maybe. But no notable physical harm will be coming to the white-haired boy, I assure you.


	3. Chapter 3

Pre-chapter author's note: I noticed that there were some concerns in the comments concerning the age range of the youth gang (late elementary school to early middle school) in this story. I have a few reasons for making that the age range of the gang. One, the gang is supposed to serve as something of a foil to Lincoln, and I figured that it would work better if they were around Lincoln's age. Two, and this is something of a spoiler alert, Lincoln is going to be confronting the gang, starting in this chapter; if the gang was composed of high schoolers and early college age people, they would be _a lot_ more difficult for an eleven-year-old runaway to deal with. As a side note, there is also a reason for the severe lack of police intervention, but that won't come up until a later chapter (here's a hint for you, though; corruption). Anywho, here's chapter three.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Loud House' or any other property in this work that I did not make myself.

Broken Mirror

Chapter three: Toppled Rulers

Lincoln, the boy without a family, thought that today would be a relatively simple day; he would help some high school girl named Carlota, along with two of Carlota's friends, with setting up their booth at a fundraiser that their school was holding. Lincoln was even going to get paid for his work. But instead of the simple day of fundraising shenanigans that he was expecting, Lincoln, along with everyone else at the fundraiser, were scared and rattled when a group of local youths, having formed into a rather violent gang that was keen on trying to make the city their personal stomping grounds, decided to raid the fundraiser. Booths were ruined, money boxes were stolen, merchandise was left in tatters all over the ground…it was safe to say that the fundraiser had to be declared a failure.

"I can't believe it," said Carlota's friend with the long orange hair, "The school's fundraiser was ruined all because that local youth gang wanted to have some fun at the expense of others."

"We can't let this keep us down," Carlota replied to her friend, her somber tone carrying a hint of righteous fury, "Otherwise, those little bastards win."

"It still beats me how the police have yet to do anything about that youth gang," said Carlota's other friend, a girl who was somewhat chubby but in a manner which made her kind of cute, "I mean, aren't the police aware of what those punks have done? Are the police not aware of how much the city as a whole has complained about them?"

"Maybe…" Lincoln began, getting the girls' attention; the four of them were getting lunch at a name brand coffee shop shortly after the ruined fundraiser, and simply trying to unwind. "…Maybe the police haven't done anything about the local youth gang…because they don't have any idea what any of them look like?" Lincoln continued, "I mean, you can't go after a suspect if you have no idea what said suspect looks like, right?"

"I highly doubt that," Carlota's chubby friend remarked as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat, "People who saw those little turds raising hell undoubtedly have given police sketch artists detailed descriptions of what said little turds look like." After giving an annoyed-sounding 'hmph', Carlota's chubby friend continued, "The police should have some idea of what some of those bastards look like."

"S-sorry," Lincoln remarked in a somewhat dejected tone, looking down at the hot chocolate that Carlota got him, "I was just trying to help figure out why nothing's been done."

Carlota, who sat next to the boy without a family, gently laid a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," Carlota replied in a sympathetic tone, "At this point, everyone is just grasping for straws."

A small yet sad smile on his face, Lincoln said, "Thanks."

Despite how the school's fundraiser ended, Carlota and her two friends still paid Lincoln, if only because of his efforts in trying to clean up the mess that was made by the punks from the local youth gang. Each girl threw five dollars into a pool and gave it to Lincoln, a total of fifteen dollars. After thanking Carlota and her two friends, Lincoln finished his hot chocolate. After talking with the older girls for a few more minutes, Lincoln took his leave. Given the time at which Lincoln left the group, the boy without a family figured that getting dinner wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. With the fifteen dollars the girls gave him, plus the roughly twenty-two dollars he had on hand when he ran away, Lincoln would be able to afford to get something decent.

He still had to be careful with his spending, though; approximately thirty-seven dollars total, although better than what he started off with, still wouldn't be able to last forever. Lincoln had to rely on cheap meals for the time being. He wanted to avoid eating too much fast food, so he figured that swinging by a convenience store and picking a few pieces of fruit from the baskets they tend to have there would help balance out his diet. Yes, that's what the boy without a family would do for his meals for the time being. At approximately six in the evening, Lincoln found a convenience store that, from what he could tell upon entering it, would serve as his grocery store until he could figure out how to earn a proper, stable source of income.

After a dinner that consisted of two apples, a banana, a small muffin and a twenty-ounce bottle of his favorite soda, Lincoln decided to wander around the city for a bit until it was time to turn in for the evening. Wary because of what happened at the high school fundraiser earlier that day, Lincoln kept to places that were as public as possible; there's no way youth gang members would be so brazen as to raise hell right in the middle of a busy section of the city. Once the darkness of night was starting to settle in, the boy without a family made his way back over to the park where he had found shelter the previous evening. After finding the playset that had served as his home, Lincoln crawled back inside of it.

It took him a while to settle down, and he had to get out once so he could find a place with a restroom so he could relieve himself. But once everything was taken care of, Lincoln, letting out a yawn that showcased how tired he really was, returned to his makeshift home at the local park. Crawling back into the playset, Lincoln tried to relax again. Allowing the exhaustion of his day to dictate what he'd do, the boy without a family finally fell asleep.

* * *

Lincoln woke up in his playset home sometime early the following morning. Crawling out, Lincoln stood up and stretched as he looked around; judging by how the sky looked, Lincoln guessed that it was roughly six in the morning, give or take a few minutes. Figuring that now was as good of a time as any to grab some breakfast, Lincoln made his way to a place with public restrooms, changed into some clean clothes in one of the stalls in the men's restroom, made use of his personal care and hygiene products, then proceeded to find a place that he could get some breakfast at. The boy without a family ended up going to the Burpin' Burger he ate at the previous morning, ordered a serving of some sort of French Toast-style breakfast sticks that could be dipped in a packet of syrup, plus a fountain drink.

As he settled into a booth so he could have his meager breakfast, Lincoln's attention was caught by something that was on the news on the TV that was mounted on the wall nearby. "…In the theft of a few hundred dollars," the news anchor said as footage of the wreckage from the failed fundraiser over at Carlota's school was played, "Additionally, at least eight people were hurt to the point that they required treatment at the hospital. Luckily, none of the injuries were severe. This instance of the local youth gang's unchecked violence has concerned citizens complaining yet again about the severe lack of police intervention." The news suddenly shifted to an interview with one of the city's residents, which just so happened to have been Henry, the older man that was talking to that Carlos man around this time yesterday.

"Those little brats have already gone too far when they beat a kid to death, and yet they continue to make the rest of us suffer," Henry complained as he was interviewed, "When will the police finally do something about them? What's taking them so long?!" The news shifted to another interview that, to the surprise of the boy without a family, was with that Hector Casagrande man who had shown him such kindness when they first met.

"Everyday those little hooligans are allowed to ride roughshod over the rest of us is a day I fear that something will happen to one of my grandkids," Hector said as he was interviewed, "Something has got to be done about those punks, and something has to be done right now!" The news then shifted back to a news anchor sitting at a desk.

"With public opinion shifting in the direction of becoming practically a demand for something to be done, more pressure than ever is now on local law enforcement to do something," the news anchor said, "And now on to weather. Tom?" As Tom the weather man began to drone on about what the weather was expected to look like over the next few days, Lincoln turned his attention back to his breakfast of French Toast sticks and a fountain drink. A lot of the city as a whole wants those youth gang members stopped, that much was clear to the boy without a family. But with how sloth-like the police were being in regards to doing anything about it, Lincoln was concerned that the local youth gang will, to borrow a quote from his ex-older sister Lori, literally take over the city. And literally is being used in the correct sense here.

Having finished his French Toast sticks, Lincoln proceeded to drink some of his fountain drink as he contemplated what was going on in regards to the local youth gang. Perhaps that one friend of Carlota's was actually wrong, that the police actually don't have any idea what any of the youth gang members look like. If they knew the identity of even one of the youth gang members, then the police would be able to get to work; with the identity of one of the youth gang members, the police can track that person down and apprehend him or her. Then it would just be a matter of time before said youth gang member gave up the names of other members of the youth gang. With that knowledge, the police would then proceed to make arrests, rounding up all of the youth gang members, thus eliminating public menace number one.

But without even one of the youth gang members to work with, the police could do nothing to stop the youth gang as a whole. The boy without a family was stumped as to how the police could proceed from here. If only they had a valuable lead like an identity…but considering the fact the police apparently have nothing, all of the youth gang members must be at least somewhat competent when it came to covering their tracks. They might as well have been taking stealth lessons from Lincoln's gothic ex-sister.

…And that's when a risky, not to mention nothing short of insane, idea popped into the head of the boy without a family. Lincoln had picked up a number of skills from the girls who he used to refer to as his sisters; after all, with all of the time he was forced to spend with them (heaven forbid he ever had any alone time!), Lincoln would have been surprised if he _didn_ ' _t_ learn a thing or two from those girls. As he worked out more and more of the details for the plan he came up with in his head, Lincoln was surprised to find that he was, even if it was ever so slightly, grateful for the severe lack of alone time that he had been permitted. After he worked out the last of the details for his plan, Lincoln knew that by the time his plan was finished, at best, the local youth gang would finally be stopped. At worst, the boy without a family would be dead.

…Seeing as though he didn't have a family, Lincoln figured that he had nothing to lose.

* * *

Over the next few hours, Lincoln looked around for any possible place where youth gang members may be found while taking care not to draw attention to himself. He often stuck to darker environments; before he began his quest, the boy without a family changed into the darkest-colored clothing that he had on hand, hoping he'd blend into the darkness with greater ease. Lincoln's foresight paid off, as not one person had even noticed him practically sneaking around. Once he started getting accustomed to his practical stealth mode, Lincoln had to resist the urge to pop out of nowhere to give someone a fright.

A little bit past one in the afternoon, Lincoln took a break, mostly due to having covered so much ground. Resting his tired legs, the boy without a family was a little annoyed with how he had yet to find anything that was so much as related to the youth gang. Maybe he had to take a few more risks when it came to-

"Aww man, yesterday was a hoot, wasn't it?!" a random voice called out, loud enough to draw Lincoln out of his thoughts. Getting up, Lincoln snuck carefully to the entrance of the alleyway in which he had been resting. Peeking out, Lincoln caught the sight of two boys he estimated to be roughly a year or so older than him. Lincoln's eyes widened out of shock upon seeing these two boys, and for good reason; he recognized them as two of the kids from the fundraiser incident from yesterday. They were members of the local youth gang that had been causing so much trouble for the city as a whole as of late. Figuring that this was his best bet, Lincoln waited until they had a fair bit of a lead, then he proceeded to follow them, all the while silently hoping that what he had picked up from his gothic ex-sister about stealth was enough to keep him safe.

"Yeah, trashing that fundraiser at the high school sure was a blast, huh?" one of the boys replied to his fellow, "Not to mention how much money we made snatching those money boxes from the various booths." Hearing that bit confirmed beyond any doubt Lincoln's suspicions that these two boys belonged to the local youth gang. They both also had the looks of punks as well; somewhat baggy men's tank-tops, baggy pants that even with a belt were starting to slip down, sneakers that were undoubtedly more expensive that the rest of their respective wardrobes combined, and varying hairstyles one would expect punk gang members to have. The two boys shared a laugh that was mostly haughty, but with a dash of darkness to it.

"Well anywho, I'm kind of peckish," the first punk said, "We still got munchies over at the hideout, right?"

"If not, we can always raid one of the convenience stores again," the second punk replied, "Or maybe old man Casagrande's place." With a casual shrug, the second punk continued, "It's not like that old fat sack of shit can do a fucking thing to stop us." The second punk's response drew a bark of laughter out of the first punk as they continued on their way. However, as the two punks made their way, they were unaware that they were being followed. Followed by a boy without a family who, upon hearing that these two punks might go and harass one of the people who had shown him kindness ever since he ran away, swore silently to himself that these two boys would have to go through him first before they could even so much as touch a hair on that nice old Hispanic man.

* * *

To Lincoln's relief, the two punk boys he had followed did not go to Hector's bodega store. Instead, they went into an abandoned building that, from the look of it, used to be some sort of storehouse. There was also plenty of dark areas as well, not to mention large crates that would hide him perfectly. Carefully peeking from behind one of the aforementioned crates, Lincoln saw the two punk boys flop down into beanbag chairs; there was a smaller crate between the two beanbag chairs, with a few bottles of soda and some snacks sitting on it. Off to the side, Lincoln also noticed a small pile of money boxes, similar to the one that Carlota and her friends were using at the fundraiser to hold the money they already had in case a customer needed change. The boy without a family had little doubt that the boxes were already cleared out.

Picking up a snack sized bag of chips, the first punk reached into it, only to have a disappointed scowl on his face. "Damn, this bag is empty," the first punk complained as he crumpled the bag into a wad and tossed it over his head, letting it land somewhere behind the beanbag chair he sat in. Practically melting into his beanbag chair, the first punk said, "When the hell is Wyatt getting back here? We need to do a chip run."

"Chill man," the second punk replied as he looked at the watch on his left wrist, "At this point, he should be back within an hour." As the first punk begrudgingly snatched a wrapped muffin from the crate between the two beanbag chairs, Lincoln hoped that, within the approximate hour that he had just been given, that he could sneak out of the abandoned storehouse, contact the police, and lead them to this storehouse while these two punks were still here; the police would apprehend them, bring them to the local station, and drill them for the names of the other members of the youth gang. With the problem of the youth gang taken care of, Lincoln felt that the city as a whole would-

"Hey guys, I'm back!" called out a male voice that Lincoln felt belonged to a boy about the same age as the two youth gang members sitting in the beanbag chairs. Sure enough, a third punk the same age as his fellows entered the abandoned storehouse; he was dressed in a manner similar to the first to punks, although whereas the first two punks were Caucasian, this third one had a skin tone that was partly cocoa-colored and partly tanned, indicating a mixed-race heritage. However, this isn't what caught Lincoln's attention about this third boy who had just shown up; the third boy was forcibly dragging a fourth kid into the abandoned warehouse with him. Judging by the appearance of this fourth boy, Lincoln estimated him to be about his own age, and felt that the fourth boy gave off an air of dorkiness, similar to that of Lincoln and his friends back in his old home town. Lincoln would have welcomed this boy were he to become a new kid at RWES.

Forcibly shoving the fourth boy in front of him, the third punk said to his fellows with an annoyed scowl, "This asshole here thought it'd be a good idea to give me some lip." His scowl turning into a sneer, the third punk continued, "You two up for helping me educate him better? And by 'educate him better', I mean 'beat the shit out of him until he bleeds'?"

"Oh, fuck yeah," the first punk said as he and the second punk got up from their beanbag chairs, drawing a frightened 'eep' out of the dorky boy. From where he hid, Lincoln's eyes widened in alarm; he was about to become an eyewitness to an assault. If he played his cards right, Lincoln would be able to use what he witnessed to turn the three punks that were present in over to the police. Lincoln may even be able to convince the dorky to testify against the punks that were gearing up to beat him. …Assuming of course that the dorky boy survived the assault, which the boy without a family was afraid wouldn't happen due to a mix of what the third punk said and having heard beforehand that the youth gang had been confirmed to have killed before.

Lincoln snuck around where the three punks were surrounding the dorky boy, keeping to the shadows and behind crates and other forms of cover. When came to behind an old machine of some kind, Lincoln tried to peek out from behind it, but when his hand came into contact with the machine, Lincoln recoiled automatically due to how cold to the touch the machine was. Annoyed, Lincoln took off his backpack and rummaged through it, hoping to find something that he noticed was thrown in along with the clothes and personal care and hygiene products. Within very short order, Lincoln found what he was looking for; a pair of light brown soft leather gloves with a soft cloth lining on the inside. Slipping the gloves on, Lincoln tried once again to lay his hand against the machine he hid behind. Feeling no cold, Lincoln proceeded to carefully peek out from behind the machine.

Just as he did, Lincoln saw that punks three and one were holding the dorky boy's arms behind his back while the second punk had free reign at punching the dorky boy, dealing a few hits across his face, but mostly punching him in the stomach. Carefully yet quickly looking around, Lincoln saw that the second punk was close enough to a stack of crates so that, if said stack of crates were knocked over the right way, they would topple over the second punk, covering him in an avalanche of crates. This would alarm the other punks, who would logically move to rescue their fellow, thus giving the dorky boy a chance to escape, and hopefully tell the police about what the punks were trying to do to him.

Yes, that's what Lincoln would do. Sneaking over to the stack of crates that he had spotted, Lincoln positioned himself carefully behind said stack of crates. Knowing full well that he hadn't been spotted, the boy without a family proceeded to push against the stack of crates with all of his might. Silencing a strained grunt, Lincoln began to feel the crates moving forward. Eventually, Lincoln felt the crates move forward with more and more ease, letting him know that his plan was about to-

Lincoln was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when the crates all fell forward, creating a symphony of crashing noises that was heightened by one of the crates popping open, its contents flying out all over the place resulting in a quick blast of clattering. Lincoln even heard a few of the boys (he couldn't tell which ones, though) cry out before said cries turned into gurgles that, to the boy without a family, sounded sickening. After all of the noise had finally died down, Lincoln slowly peeked out from where he hid behind the one crate in the stack that didn't fall over (the bottom crate, obviously). What he saw shocked him so much, he was unable to express anything else; otherwise he would have expressed a mix of disgust and horror at what he saw.

The second punk was lying under one of the crates, his unmoving stillness indicating that he wouldn't be getting up again. Looking over to where the other two punks were, the boy without a family saw that the contents of the crate that he heard pop open were of the dangerous variety, and that they had fallen onto the boys in a way that made them like the second punk. By some obscene amount of luck (ha!), everything fell in a way so that the dorky boy was not hurt by the avalanche of crates or by dangerous implements flying out randomly out of the crate that popped open during said avalanche.

A few seconds into Lincoln's peeking out from behind the crate, the dorky boy stood up from where he was cowering on the ground in a fetal position. Looking around and seeing the horror that was around him, the dorky boy ran out of the abandoned storehouse as quickly as possible. However, just as he started to get over his shock, Lincoln could hear the sound of the dorky boy losing his lunch just outside of the abandoned storehouse. After gathering enough of his own nerves, along with collecting his things, and waiting until after he reasonably expected the dorky boy to run and get someone's attention, the boy without a family made his own way out of the abandoned storehouse.

Lincoln didn't get very far until he lost his lunch himself. At least he made it to a bus stop that had a trash can, which is what he threw up in.

END, BROKEN MIRROR CHAPTER THREE

Author's notes:

Like I said earlier, Lincoln was only going to get rattled by experiences that he was going to have; he was not going to (nor will he) get seriously hurt/outright killed (there's enough of that in 'No Such Luck' related fics as it is from what I've been hearing/seeing). Anywho, the next chapter will see the fallout of what happened at the abandoned storehouse.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Loud House' or any other property in this work that I did not make myself.

Broken Mirror

Chapter four: Logical Extreme

Lincoln, the boy without a family, was sitting in a booth at the Burpin' Burger in the city that he had run away to after he left his old life in Royal Woods behind. It was a little past six in the evening, so Lincoln figured that getting dinner wasn't unreasonable. Even so, Lincoln didn't touch the burger, fries or fountain drink that he paid for; just a few hours ago, the boy without a family killed three other boys. Lincoln didn't think about how those three boys were all punks who belonged to the local youth gang, or how they were in the process of beating up a dorky boy that one of them had dragged to their hideout at a nearby abandoned storehouse. Lincoln didn't even think about the fact that he saved the dorky boy from a beating that could have potentially turned fatal.

All that Lincoln was thinking about was the fact that he had just killed three boys, none of which could have been any older than twelve years of age. If his ex-family didn't want him on the basis that they thought that he was bad luck, then they certainly weren't going to want him now that he had become a killer.

As he continued to stare at his meal without touching it, Lincoln was brought out of his thoughts when one of the other customers that was in the Burpin' Burger at the time said, "Hey, cashier dude! Can you do something about raising the volume on the TV? They're playing a news report about that violent youth gang!" Looking over, Lincoln saw that the TV that was mounted on the wall was, in fact, playing a breaking news report of some kind. The boy without a family was able to hear what the news was talking about when the volume was raised.

"…Earlier today when crates at an abandoned storehouse fell on top of them," the news anchor said, "According to the first response team, one boy was knocked over and hit his head on the floor hard enough for it to be fatal, and the other two were killed when one of the crates opened as it fell, with its contents falling over onto them." Lincoln was horrified, not to mentioned scared; if the police somehow were able to trace the deaths of those three boys back to him, then he'd be in serious trouble. "We now go to the local hospital, where the boy that was dragged into the warehouse by one of the youth gang members is being treated for various injuries," the news anchor said. The news then shifted to an on-site interview with the dorky boy from the abandoned storehouse.

"They…they were going to beat me up really badly," the dorky boy said, the bruises on his face dark but not swollen, "After one of them punched me in the stomach a few times, those crates fell over. When the boy who was punching me in the stomach was hit by one of the crates, the boys who were holding me let me go, and I quickly fell to the ground and curled up defensively. After all of the noises from the crates falling over and spilling stuff ended, I got back up, and that's…that's when I saw that the boys who were beating me up were all dead. I ran out of that place as soon as I could, threw up right when I exited the place, then went to call the police."

The news shifted back to the news anchor, who said, "After word of those boys who belonged to the violent youth gang being killed got out, reactions from locals were surprisingly mixed." The news then shifted to an interview that, to the surprise of the boy without a family, was with the teenaged girl who looked like the awkward phase-version of his ex-sister Lori.

"I know what those kids were doing, and what they had done, was very horrible," the girl said in a sad tone, "But they were still just kids. It's sad whenever a kid dies, regardless of who the kid is or what the kid had done." The news then shifted to another interview, with one with an African American woman who Lincoln estimated was in the same age group as his ex-mother.

"More was done about that gang today than in the past few months ever since the gang started trying to make this city their whipping boy," the African American woman remarked in a tone of righteous anger as she crossed her arms over her chest, "About damn time that anything was done!" The news shifted to another interview, this one with that older Caucasian man Henry.

"Those little punks clearly have no problem will killing innocent kids, so why should anyone complain when a few of the punks themselves bite it?" Henry said, his tone matching that of the African American woman that was before him. With a scoff, Henry added, "It seems that the gravy train that those little punks have been enjoying at the expense of everyone else has dried up, and that they've now hit some bad luck!" What Henry said in the interview caught Lincoln's attention; bad luck.

Being decried as bad luck was the reason why Lincoln ran away, why he no longer has a family. And once again, actions of his were being declared as bad luck. Just the thought of once again being made into a pariah thought to carry bad luck wherever he went made the boy without a family scowl. But Lincoln's scowl melted away into a concerned expression when he realized something due to what he heard on the news; there were some people in this city who were actually _happy_ that three kids, none of which couldn't have reached thirteen years of age at the time, were all killed. Was the city's problem with the local youth gang really so bad that when some of said gang's members are killed, people in the city _celebrate_? Just as the boy without a family processed this thought, the news shifted back to the news anchor.

"Due to the circumstances of how what occurred happened, along with the investigation team failing to find any evidence that would suggest otherwise, the death of the three boys has been ruled by local law enforcement as an accident," the news anchor said, "And now onto sports. Roger?" When the news shifted to the sports castor, Lincoln turned his attention back to what he got for dinner. The investigation team have no idea that he was the one who killed those three boys? How is that possible? Didn't they find any prints or…wait a minute, Lincoln was wearing gloves when he shoved those crates over. And the investigation team must not have bothered checking the machine that he hid behind at one point, although the boy without a family doubted that in the brief moment he touched it barehanded, he did so hard enough to leave solid prints.

"… _So that_ ' _s it_ , _then_ ," Lincoln thought somberly as he finally took a bite out of his burger, " _I just got away with murder_." The thought of killing anyone sickened the boy without a family, especially since he actually got away with it. Lincoln did not feel well with what he had done, and was even considering turning himself in. However, as he was going over what to do from here, he heard two men talking in a booth a few booths away.

"Wow, can you believe it, Mitch?" the first man said to his companion, "Something has finally happened to some of those violent little fuckers that have been trying to make life for everyone else in this city a living hell!"

"Yeah, but did it have to be the deaths of three kids, Brian?" the second man, apparently named Mitch, replied to his companion Brian in a mildly concerned tone, "I mean, they were just kids, for crying out loud."

"Mitch, how the hell can you have any sympathy for those little shits?" Brian remarked, "Little shits who have killed other kids themselves, and one of the gang's victims was your _son_."

With a somber look, Mitch said, "Yeah, my son's death still has me staying up at night."

Jerking a thumb at the direction of the TV mounted on the wall, Brian said, "It's just like the old man from the interview said. Those bastard punks have run into some bad luck." Grabbing his cup, Brian held it up in a toast as he said, "Thank goodness for that!" As the two men continued their conversation, Lincoln couldn't believe what he was hearing; once again his actions were being declared as bad luck…but they were actually _appreciated_? Does that mean he might be able to actually stay in the city, rather than be forced to find someplace else to live?

…But there was still the issue of that local violent youth gang that everyone else in the city was worried about. The boy without a family was still rattled by his experience from earlier in the day, but he was surprised to find that he was…slowly learning to deal with it? " _Am I really starting to feel okay with the fact that I_ ' _ve_ … _that I_ ' _ve killed three kids_ , _regardless of what said kids had done_?" Lincoln thought worriedly, fearing that he was going down a dark path, such as what would happen if Ace Savvy, Lincoln's favorite comic book character, was taken to his logical extreme. The boy without a family would not want to do anything that would besmirch the name of the world's savviest crimefighter.

"… _But still_ ," Lincoln thought as he sipped his fountain drink, " _If taking things to their logical extreme is the_ only _way that the problem the city is facing would be ended_ , _then what harm is there_? _I mean_ , _those kids are clearly willing to kill others_. _It_ ' _s been confirmed that they_ ' _ve done so before_. _So_ , _if they can dish it_ , _then they should be able to take it as well_." Lincoln stopped short as he became absolutely disgusted with himself for what he was thinking about doing. After all, what would his family think if…

…Actually, you know what? Scratch that last part.

* * *

It was late evening, just hitting night time. An older Asian woman, in her late seventies at the least and her early eighties at most, was walking along the sidewalk as she was making her way through a neighborhood. The settling darkness of the night had the older woman just a little bit on edge; it had her worried that something bad would happen. She feared running into some of the little hooligans belonging to that violent youth gang, and her (fairly big) purse was the perfect target for one of those punks to try and snatch. She was also worried about crossing paths with that rather violent fellow from the news who has taken to dealing with the gang ever since three of the gang members were killed in that accident close to two mon-

"Thanks, granny!" a snarky-voiced boy, a Caucasian kid that was clearly a member of the violent youth gang in the city, sneered sarcastically as he ran past the older Asian woman while trying to grab ahold of her purse, interrupting her thoughts in the process. Luckily for the older Asian woman, she didn't lose the grip on her purse just yet.

"Let go, young m-" the older Asian woman began to holler, but the punk, angered that he didn't snatch the purse right away, slugged the older Asian woman across the face, cutting her off mid-scream and making her lose her grip on her purse's handle. For good measure, the punk slammed his foot into the older Asian woman's stomach, sending her tumbling over.

"When I'm trying to fucking rob you, you're not supposed to fucking resist, old bitch!" the punk snapped as he stomped down on the older Asian woman's left hand as it laid on the ground, making the woman holler in pain right as the punk turned around and ran off.

The punk made a turn into an alleyway, hoping to avoid any prying eyes that would see where he was going. After the set backs he and his fellows have suffered over the approximate two months since that incident in the abandoned storehouse, the absolute last thing that the punk needed was to get caught. Counting his friends who were killed in the aforementioned incident, a total of seventeen members of his gang have been killed by some violent wannabe vigilante who even left calling cards. It's like one of those capes and cowls from the comic books if they were taken to their log-

The punk was cut off mid-thought when a fist slugged him across the face, making him stumble back a bit and drop the purse. When he regained his bearings, the punk looked up and saw who had punched him. Expecting someone much older, the punk was surprised to find someone approximately his height, give or take an inch or so. The kid wore a baggy jacket with a somewhat large hood that kept the kid's head perfectly covered in shadow. The kid also wore a black bandana over the lower half of their face; that, plus how baggy the jacket was, made it impossible to determine the kid's gender. The kid also wore a somewhat baggy pair of jeans, sneakers, and a pair of light brown leather gloves.

"Who the hell are you?!" the punk snapped as he raised his fists. Spitting to the side, the punk faced the hooded kid again as he said, "You wanna fucking go, you little turd?!" The hooded kid, their eyes betraying nothing, calmly reached behind him with his right hand, pulled something out from his right back pocket, and brought it forward. The punk's eyes widened in shock and mild fear as he saw what the hooded kid pulled out; a butterfly knife. "…The fuck is that?" the punk said as he pointed to the weapon. Without an answer, without even saying anything, the hooded kid just ran forward towards the punk, alarming him.

"Hey, wait a minute!" the punk began to bargain, "We can work something-"

*SHUK*

…

Two men in their very early twenties were searching around the alleyway that an older Asian woman said she was some punk kid run into after he snatched her purse and assaulted her. Hoping that the kid in question reached a dead end and was unable to get out without being spotted, the two young men went into the alleyway in hopes of at the very least getting the woman's purse back for her.

"Hey Jack," the first man began.

"What is it, Paul?" the second man, named Jack, replied to his companion Paul.

"You've been hearing on the news as of late about that guy who's going around and wiping out the gang, right?" Paul continued.

"Yeah, and that's something that's been bothering me," Jack said, "Some guy has taken the law into his own hands and is going around killing off members of the gang that have been plaguing the city, and need I point out that the gang members are all just a bunch of punk kids?"

"Well the police certainly weren't doing anything about the gang," Paul pointed out, "I mean, what would you rather have, Jack? Everything left exclusively to police officers that weren't going to do anything, or let someone do the job that the police clearly aren't going to do?"

"Does this vigilante fellow seriously have to kill those kids?" Jack retorted.

"Did those kids seriously have to kill other kids?" Paul retorted back.

"It's not as black and white as-" Jack began, but he was cut off when Paul made a gaging sound.

"The fuck is that smell, dude?!" Paul exclaimed as he pinched the bridge of his nose when he and Jack turned a corner in the alleyway, "It smells like-" Paul stopped short when he and Jack came across something that made them freeze in place.

It was the punk from the violent youth gang, the one who snatched the older Asian woman's purse. He laid face-down, still and unmoving, on the ground, a certain kind of crimson staining parts of his form. Sitting on the back of the still and unmoving punk were two objects; the older Asian woman's purse, and an index card that had something drawn on it. Upon noticing that index card, the two young men knew full well what had happened here, being well-versed in the recent goings-on in the city. Turning to face Paul, Jack gave his companion's right shoulder a gentle push with his left hand.

"Dude, you have your phone with you, right?" Jack asked, getting his friend's attention. Nodding once in understanding, Jack continued, "Good. Call the police, then." Focusing his gaze on the index card, Jack was barely able to make out what was drawn on it; it resembled a card from a deck of fifty-two playing cards, with a capital letter 'B' in the upper left corner, a capital letter 'M' in the bottom right corner, and a drawing of a hand mirror in the center, with cracks all over the mirror's surface.

The calling card of Broken Mirror.

END, BROKEN MIRROR CHAPTER FOUR

Author's notes:

…And that's why this story has the title that it has. Anywho, I tried making a show of how emotionally conflicted Lincoln was with what he did, because no one can go through an experience like that and come out without at least _some_ amount of _some_ kind of emotional baggage; if someone did emerge from such a situation without issue, then I would be _very_ worried about that person. Anywho, the next chapter will see a certain someone that Lincoln wasn't counting on seeing in the city that he ran away to (although some of you may have already correctly guessed that the person in question was going to be showing up eventually); the next chapter will also see the reason for the severe lack of police intervention when it comes to the gang.

At least the next Loud House story that I have in mind won't have to worry about actual deaths.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Loud House' or any other property in this work that I did not make myself.

Broken Mirror

Chapter five: Surprising Encounter

Lincoln, the boy without a family, was eating breakfast at the Burpin' Burger in the city that he ran away to after his ex-family essentially said that he was unwanted. Lincoln wasn't actually eating something ordered from the Burpin' Burger itself, though. Lincoln's meal consisted of a muffin and two apples that he bought from a convenience store in the city; Lincoln did, however, buy a fountain drink from the Burpin' Burger. Lincoln wanted to avoid eating too much fast food, but the TV mounted to the wall in the Burpin' Burger served as Lincoln's primary source of info about what was going in the city. To the mild amusement of the boy without a family, the news was playing a story about yet another death of a member of the violent youth gang.

"…Last night after he ran into an alleyway after snatching an elderly woman's purse," the news anchor said, "Upon arriving on the scene, the investigation team found yet another calling card from the vigilante that many people all over the city have taken to calling Broken Mirror." The news then shifted to an interview with a local citizen, a notably plus-sized Caucasian woman that from the looks of her had to be in her mid-forties at the very least.

"The police have got to track down this man that's going around killing kids," the woman said, "Kids should never be killed at all, regardless of what they've done!" The news then shifted to an interview with an interview with a physically well-conditioned African American man that looked to be in his mid to late twenties.

"Those little punks have no problem with killing others, especially other kids," the African American man said in a righteously angry tone, "So why should anyone complain when one of those punks bites it? If you ask me, those punks shouldn't have dished it out in the first place if they weren't willing to take it themselves!" The news then shifted back to the news anchor.

"Public opinion on the matter is still split, with half of the city calling for the arrest of Broken Mirror and the other half hailing him or her as the answer to the problem that this city has been facing for the past several months," the news anchor remarked, "No one has seen that vigilante in action, and forensics have failed to uncover any evidence, such as fingerprints, that would point to an identity, so there is no solid idea as to what Broken Mirror looks like, although experts have reason to believe that Broken Mirror is a man of at least eighteen years of age. We'll bring you more as the story develops. And now onto the weather. Tom?"

Turning away from the TV mounted on the wall, Lincoln looked down to his breakfast. The boy without a family suppressed a chuckle; the news thinks that _he_ ' _s_ an eighteen-year-old man? That's right, it's _Lincoln_ who's been going around taking out any member of the violent youth gang that he's been coming across. It is the boy without a family that the locals have dubbed 'Broken Mirror', although that was mostly due to the calling cards that Lincoln's been leaving; buying a pack of blank index cards, Lincoln would draw on each of them a drawing of a hand mirror with cracks all over the mirror's surface. He also added capital letters 'B' and 'M' in the upper left and lower right corners respectively, to give it the look of a playing card. And of course, no one was going to find prints; Lincoln always uses his gloves, never touching anything barehanded. Although he's surprised that doing that worked as well as it has so far.

Finishing his meal, Lincoln gathered up his trash and threw it out. Looking down at the outfit he wore, Lincoln brushed a few crumbs off of the purple-and-gold football jersey he was wearing; before coming to the Burpin' Burger, Lincoln changed into a long-sleeved white shirt, threw the jersey on over that, and put on a pair of pants to complete the outfit. Picking up his empty cup, Lincoln refilled it (hooray for free refills!) before taking his leave from the Burpin' Burger. Aside from taking out the members of the gang, Lincoln still does odd jobs here and there in the city. How else would he expect to buy food?

* * *

In an office somewhere in the city, a portly balding Caucasian man with a moustache was sitting at a desk as two in-uniform police officers, both Hispanic men with slim yet healthy builds, stood before his desk. Slamming the surface of the desk with his right fist, the portly man practically screamed at the officers, "You better find that killer, and you better find him now!"

"With all due respect, Mayor," the first officer replied, "We have no idea what the vigilante known as Broken Mirror looks like. We aren't even sure if we're supposed to be looking for either a man or a woman."

"You know what I mean!" the portly man, revealed to be the city's Mayor, growled in an annoyed, angry tone, "How can your department be so damn fucking lazy?!"

"Well for starters, we lack sufficient evidence to even begin an investigation," the second officer began to explain in a casual yet cool tone, "Not to mention all of the layers of red tape that we have to work through before we can even get the necessary warrants."

"Fine, whatever," the Mayor growled in response, "Just get me whatever papers I have to sign to give you boys the clear to being that investigation!"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the first officer said, "Oh, so _now_ you want us to do our jobs."

Glaring at the first officer, the Mayor said, "I don't care for that tone of yours, officer."

"And _I_ don't care for you constantly impeding my department's efforts to try and crack down on the local youth gang," the first officer retorted, "Seriously, Mayor. If we had been allowed to do our job back when the first incident of that youth gang acting up took place, then none of this would have happened! The youth gang wouldn't have made the city into their personal stomping grounds, the local citizens wouldn't be accusing my department of being lazy and not wanting to do our job, and a lone vigilante wouldn't be out there killing the members of the youth gang." Giving the Mayor a knowing look, the first officer added, "By the way, wasn't _your son_ one of the members of the youth gang that was killed by the vigilante?"

"Wait a minute," the second officer said in a mildly shocked tone as he turned to face his fellow, "What?!"

Turning to face the second officer, the first officer said, "Yeah, the Mayor's son is one of the victims of the vigilante that's going around."

"Which is all the more reason why you lazy bums have to pick up the pace and track down that bastard Broken Mirror!" the Mayor practically screamed, slamming his fist down on the surface of his desk once again.

Ignoring the Mayor, the first officer continued to talk to the second officer. "Think about it for a second. The Mayor's son is one of Broken Mirror's victims. All of Broken Mirror's victims have been members of that gang that the Mayor wouldn't let us investigate." As the second officer's eyes widened with realization, the first officer said as he noticed his fellow putting two and two together, "Yeah. You would have to be lacking some serious brain power not to be able to add all of that up." Turning to face the Mayor, the first officer said in a cool, knowing tone, "So yeah, Mr. Mayor. It'll take my department a while to get going on the Broken Mirror case." The first officer turned to leave, which prompted the second officer to turn around and go with his fellow. As the two officers walked out of the Mayor's office, the first officer said with a hint of knowing humor in his tone, "We'll bring the necessary forms over for you to sign as soon as we can."

After the two officers left, closing the double-doors to the Mayor's office behind them, the Mayor himself growled with anger. If he wanted, the Mayor would have the badges of those officers for the lip that they gave him just now. But if he pushed like that, then the officers would let everyone in the city know that he was impeding their ability to investigate the case of the violent youth gang because his son was a member of said gang; if word of _that_ got out, then the Mayor's chances at getting reelected wouldn't look all that good. The Mayor clenched his fist tightly, steamed that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. " _Damn that Broken Mirror_ ," the Mayor thought angrily, " _He_ ' _s got me stuck in a politician_ ' _s worst nightmare_."

* * *

It was late afternoon in the city. Going off of what he heard people had said, Lincoln went into an alleyway looking for an entryway into an abandoned building in the city that supposedly serves as a hideout for the violent youth gang. Even though incidents and crimes are still being attributed to said gang, the number of times said incidents and crimes take place are not only dwindling, but they're dwindling fast. This told the boy without a family that not only is the gang is close to being eliminated altogether (at least that's what he's hoping it means), but that the gang is failing to recruit more members to compensate for the losses. Lincoln hopes that the next few gang members he comes across will end up being the last before the problem is taken care of for good.

Wearing the outfit that he's taken to using when he's in the role of 'Broken Mirror', Lincoln snuck quietly but quickly through the alleyway, looking for the supposed hideout while taking care not to be seen. As he snuck around, the boy without a family had to quickly duck behind a dumpster when he thought he heard some voices talk. Daring to peek out from his cover, Lincoln saw, to his relief, that no one had spotted him. However, he did see where the aforementioned voices came from; a dark grayish door that was left ajar. Giving the building that the door in question was a part of a quick look, Lincoln saw that it was an old factory that looked to be abandoned.

Under the bandana that he wore to cover the lower half of his face, Lincoln smiled; this was without a doubt the place that he was looking for. Sneaking over quietly but quickly, the boy without a family pulled the door open just enough for him to slip on inside, taking care not to make any noise when he pulled the door open. Luckily for him, the door didn't have any rusty or squeaking hinges that would have given him away. With his entering the building taken care of, Lincoln proceeded to quietly look around, keeping to cover and shadows so as to avoid possibly being spotted. Moving forward, Lincoln walked through a hallway, going past a doorway that led into a factory room. Just after walking past that doorway, the boy without a family heard a girl's voice call out in a worried and scared tone, "W-what do you two want with me?"

Turning back around, Lincoln went over to the doorway and, taking care not to be seen, peeked into the factory room. What he saw had him shocked; two members of the violent youth gang, one a boy and one a girl, had a girl that they must have dragged off of the streets and into the abandoned factory to beat up, similar to how those three boys had dragged off that dorky boy from a while ago. Although two members of the violent youth gang spiriting away a girl to beat up wasn't shocking in and of itself, it was _who_ the two gang members have dragged off that had the boy without a family shocked.

Ronnie Anne Santiago.

" _What_ ' _s Ronnie Anne doing here_?!" Lincoln thought worriedly as he watched the two gang members corner the Hispanic girl up against a wall of crates. Removing a pair of fairly large pocket knives from his front pants pockets, Lincoln quietly flipped the blades open, thinking quickly about how to get the girl who he considered to be more than a friend out of this mess.

"Look here, girl," the girl punk said, "Our little group is facing a serious shortage of members." Brushing the top of her right hand against Ronnie Anne's left shoulder, the punk girl continued, "You seem like you're made of some tough stuff. So how about it? Are you in…" Jerking a thumb at the boy punk, the girl punk added, "…Or do he and I have to beat you until you agree to be in? Either way, you aren't getting out of this."

Gulping nervously, Ronnie Anne asked, "H-how many members are in your gang right now?"

"If we get both you and that blonde-haired British girl that we've scouted, then the gang will have a total of four members," the boy punk explained, "And the first thing you'll be helping us with will be recruiting more-" The boy punk was cut off when, to the shock of the punk girl and the shock and horror of Ronnie Anne, someone jabbed a fairly big pocket knife into the side of the boy punk's neck before pushing it outward. The punk boy was thrown to the side by a hooded kid wearing a bandana over the lower half of their face; neither the punk girl or Ronnie Anne could tell if this person was a boy or a girl, due to the hooded jacket they wore. As the punk boy became still while laying on the floor of the factory room, the hooded kid turned on the punk girl, making sure she would be joining her fellow in quick order.

Once that deed was done, the hooded kid got up and turned around to face Ronnie Anne, who at this point was visibly shaking in fright. "P-p-please don't k-kill me!" Ronnie Anne stammered as she was beginning to cry, "I w-wasn't g-g-going to do a-anything with t-those guys! They were t-trying to make me j-join them because their g-g-group was too s-s-small!" Little did the Hispanic girl know that the hooded kid was actually Lincoln, the white-haired boy that she used to pick on due to not knowing how to properly explain her feelings for him. The boy without a family flipped his pocket knives closed, slipped them back into his pockets, then pointed to one of the punks that laid on the floor. Then immediately pointing to Ronnie Anne, Lincoln gently shook his head in the negative.

A mild hint of surprise appearing across her face, Ronnie Anne said as she sniffled a bit, "Y-you're not going t-to kill me?" Once again, the boy without a family shook his head gently in the negative. Now crying out of relief, Ronnie Anne said, "Th-thank y-"

"Oi, what in the bloody hell happened here?!" a female voice called out, prompting the disguised boy to instantly pull his pocket knives back out, flipped them open with quick wrist snaps, and turn to face who had stumbled upon the factory room. As such, the boy without a family saw a fair-skinned girl who looked to be about the same age as his sporty ex-sister. The girl had long yellow-blonde hair with streaks of color in it, obviously there to give the girl a punk look. She wore a baggy hooded jacker that looked like the Union Jack, baggy jeans with torn knees, and large sneakers. Judging by the girl's voice and her wardrobe, she must have come from England; Lincoln, thanks to his musically-inclined ex-sister, can tell a British accent that is practiced apart from a British accent that was actually authentic.

Seeing what was going on, the punk British girl said nervously, "Look, guv. I ain't a member of their little group, alright? Granted they wanted me to join, and they made me a tempting offer, but I hadn't accepted the offer yet." With a nervous chuckle, the punk British girl continued, "If I promise not to accept their offer, will you promise not to take me hide and nail it to a barn?" The hooded kid glared at the punk British girl for a few seconds as he considered what she said. After about fifteen seconds or so, Lincoln flipped his pocket knives closed and slipped them back into his front pockets before giving the punk British girl a thumbs-up.

Sighing in relief, the punk British girl said, "Thanks a mill, guv. You're a real mate." With a look of mild wonder mixed with worry on her face, the punk British girl said, "Umm, before I go, there's something I want to ask." Pointing to where the punk boy laid on the floor, the punk British girl said, "That guy there, who's a total loon if you ask me, has something that I had me eye on. It's a gold men's class ring with a green emerald stone. If I could get that before I take me leave, that'd be grand." With a look of curiosity mixed with a mild dash of confusion in his eyes, Lincoln turned to where the punk boy laid and went over to him. Checking the punk boy, the boy without a family quickly recovered the men's class ring that the punk British girl had just described. After collecting the ring, Lincoln tossed it to the punk British girl, who caught it rather handily.

Giving the ring a quick look, the punk British girl said, "Ah, that's the little bugger right there!" Turning her head to regard the hooded kid, the punk British girl said, "Thanks again, mate. And don't worry, I'll keep to the straight and narrow." The punk British girl turned around and took her leave. After she was gone, the disguised Lincoln turned back around to face Ronnie Anne. Pointing to the doorway that lead out of the factory room, the boy without a family nodded while facing the Hispanic girl. Understanding what the hooded kid was trying to say, Ronnie Anne nodded once in understanding before running to the doorway as quickly as possible so she could get out of there.

Lincoln was glad that Ronnie Anne was okay, but Ronnie Anne's presence in this city had the boy without a family wondering. What was the Hispanic girl even doing in this city in the first place? Is Ronnie Anne a runaway as well? Or might she and her family perhaps be visiting someone in the city? Lincoln did notice over the time that he spent living in the city that a fairly large portion of its population is composed of people of Hispanic heritage; maybe the queen of mean has a relative or two who lives here. Still, after leaving his usual calling card, changing back into a regular outfit and sneaking out of the abandoned factory without risking getting seen by anyone, Lincoln decided, against his better judgement, to look for Ronnie Anne.

* * *

After approximately half an hour of searching and asking people that he past if they saw a girl with Ronnie Anne's description, the boy without a family got as solid of a lead as he was going to get. Taking care to make sure Ronnie Anne didn't see him before he saw her, the boy without a family eventually made his way into an area of the city that seemed familiar to him. Lincoln was right to assume that this area of the city was familiar to him, because when he at last located Ronnie Anne, he saw her enter an apartment building. There were two things about this apartment building that got Lincoln's attention; one, the bodega store that belongs to that Hector Casagrande man is part of the apartment building.

Two, Vanzilla was parked outside of it.

END, BROKEN MIRROR CHAPTER FIVE

Author's notes:

I was originally planning on having this story wrap up with this chapter, but due to a few scenes in this chapter dragging on (in my opinion, at least) a bit, I had to end the chapter here and work on a sixth chapter. But yeah, things should be wrapping up in the next chapter.

As a side note, I guess that it was kind of obvious that Lincoln was 'Broken Mirror', even though that fact wasn't technically revealed until this chapter. But either way, congratulations to those who correctly guessed it prior to this chapter coming out; you get one cookie each.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Loud House' or any other property in this work that I did not make myself.

Broken Mirror

Chapter six: Not Alone

Lincoln, the boy without a family, couldn't believe it; Ronnie Anne Santiago, someone close to him back in his old life back in Royal Woods, was somehow in the city that he had run away to. Furthermore, he saw her enter an apartment building that the bodega store owned by that nice older man Hector Casagrande is a part of. Why would Ronnie Anne…wait a minute, when he first shopped at the bodega store, Lincoln remember that nice Hector man saying that he had a granddaughter with similar taste in snacks as Lincoln; Ronnie Anne likes the same kind of Root Beer as the white-haired boy, s'mores flavored toaster treats are her favorite, and the Hispanic girl, like Lincoln, had a thing for cinnamon rolls. Might Ronnie Anne be the granddaughter that Hector was talking about?

To further compound on the thoughts swimming around in Lincoln's head, he saw that Vanzilla, the family vehicle used by his ex-family, was parked outside of the apartment building/bodega store. Why would Vanzilla be parked outside of…hang on, if Ronnie Anne was indeed Hector's granddaughter, and she was visiting him, then there was a good chance that Ronnie Anne's family, would include her seventeen-year-old brother Bobby, was also here visiting the older Hispanic man. From that, Lincoln had fair reason to suspect that Lori, the oldest of his ex-sisters, had driven here, just to be with her Boo-Boo Bear. If that was the case, then Lincoln wasn't even going to bother to try and see what Ronnie Anne was up to. No doubt Lincoln's ex-sister told the Santiagos how he was 'bad luck', and now they would want nothing to do with him either.

Turning around, Lincoln began to walk away, tired from his long day of looking around for members of the violent youth gang, tired from the few odd jobs he did before his looking around so he could earn his living, just…tired. However, as the boy without a family proceeded to walk away, he heard a familiar female voice call out, "Hey, you're that kid from before!" Turning around, Lincoln saw that Carlota girl from the high school fundraiser come running up to him. "Yeah, yeah you're totally that kid from before!" Carlota said to Lincoln in a cheerful and friendly tone, "How have you been?"

Sighing in a resigned, tired tone, Lincoln said, "I'm…fine. Really tired, but otherwise fine." Trying to make conversation with Carlota so as to not seem rude, Lincoln asked, "Did…did your school ever try again with the fundraiser after what happened with all of those kids coming in and wrecking the place?"

"Yeah, we tried again on Friday of the following week," Carlota replied. With an amused smirk, the older Hispanic girl continued, "You know, my friends and I could have used your help again. It was really sweet of you when you tried to help clean up the mess that those punks made."

"I…" Lincoln said, trailing off because he wasn't sure what to say. Shaking his head gently a bit, Lincoln said, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Carlota said in a reassuring tone. Ruffling Lincoln's hair, Carlota said, "I bet you were scared that those punks would have shown up again." Shaking her head gently in an understanding manner, Carlota continued, "I can't really blame you for that." Removing her hand from the top of Lincoln's head, Carlota said as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "You said you were tired, right? My grandfather's place is across the street, so if you want, you can stop by for a bit." Looking behind Carlota, the boy without a family saw she was pointing out the apartment building/bodega store that he saw Ronnie Anne go into earlier. This surprised Lincoln; was Carlota related to Ronnie Anne as well? What other family does she have in this city?

Shaking his head gently, Lincoln said, "No thanks. I'll be fine."

With a look of mild concern on her face, Carlota asked, "Are you sure?"

Nodding weakly in the affirmative, Lincoln replied tiredly, "I'm…I'm sure. I just need to get going." Turning around, the boy without a family walked away. However, Lincoln didn't walk all that far; about ten to twelve feet away, Lincoln stumbled, fell against a wall and, with all of his exhaustion from the day finally catching up to him, slumped over onto the ground, where he laid there. Seeing Lincoln fall over, Carlota ran over to him to see if he was okay. The last thing Lincoln heard before he passed out was Carlota shouting as she ran over to someplace that was nearby, most likely the apartment building/bodega store across the street.

* * *

When he regained consciousness, Lincoln didn't open his eyes right away; he was still a little tired, after all. However, he could tell that not only was he laying on something a lot softer than the sidewalk that he collapsed on, but that someone was also holding him as he was laying partly in that person's lap. The boy without a family could also hear what was going on, with the main thing he was hearing being the soft, gentle crying of whoever was holding him. Lincoln could also hear people talking nearby.

"What's Lame-o doing here?" Lincoln could hear Ronnie Anne's voice ask in a surprised and mildly worried tone, "How did he even get here?"

"We can ask the bro when he wakes up," the familiar voice of Bobby said, "You need to relax, Nie-Nie."

"I thought I asked you to stop calling me that, Bobby!" Ronnie Anne's voice nearly exclaimed in a clearly embarrassed tone.

"Not until I can think of a cuter nickname for you," Bobby's voice replied. With a hint of teasing in his tone, Bobby's voice added, "You're my adorable little sister, after all."

"ARUGH!" Ronnie Anne's voice shouted in a frustrated tone.

"Oh, come on, Nie-nie," Bobby's voice continued in a casual tone, "Try as you might, you're always going to be my adorable little sister. Why, I still have that picture of you back when you were five and still liked dressing up as a princess who-"

"RONNIE ANNE USED TO LIKE DRESSING UP AS A PRINCESS?!" Lincoln exclaimed in shock as he jolted awake, the force of him jolting into an upright sitting position yanking him from the arms of the person that was holding him. Seeing the white-haired boy jolt awake, not to mention hearing him shout, the Santiago siblings turned to look at him.

"…Great," Ronnie Anne remarked sarcastically as her expression turned into a scowl, "You just _had_ to say that out loud, didn't you, Bobby? Now Lame-o knows the darkest secret of my past."

"…I can show him the picture," Bobby offered.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Ronnie Anne nearly shrieked.

"Would you two please try to keep it down?" a familiar voice, one that Lincoln never really felt like hearing ever again, said from next to the white-haired boy, "You're literally being way too loud." Turning around so he could face the person who sat next to him, Lincoln came face to face with the oldest of his ex-sisters.

"What are you doing here, Lori?" Lincoln asked, his tone surprisingly cool and devoid of any emotion; if Lori didn't know any better, she could have sworn that Lucy had somehow magically turned into a boy.

"I should be asking you that, Lincoln," Lori replied, "What…" The oldest Loud sibling had to stop short so she could collect her nerves. Continuing, Lori asked as she choked back some crying, "…What happened to you?"

"…I believe I asked you a question first," Lincoln said, his tone making it all too clear that he was still very much upset with what had happened.

"She came here because of us, dude," Bobby said, getting Lincoln and his ex-sister to turn and face him. "Me and Ronnie Anne's mom…" Bobby began, "…Is considering moving the three of us to this city, to live with Grandpa Hector and the rest of our family here. Mom wants to do this because she said she doesn't like how her working at the hospital over at Royal Woods often leaves Ronnie Anne and I alone. She thinks we'd benefit from having our family as company."

"You guys are moving here?" Lincoln asked, a bare hint of surprise sneaking into his tone, "And Lori is here because…"

"I came here with some literally half-baked hope that I could convince Bobby and his folks not to move," Lori explained to her younger brother as she choking back some more crying, "I know this sounds selfish, but I couldn't stand the idea of Bobby being out of cuddle distance from me." Lincoln didn't say anything; figures that Lori would go to lengths like that for Bobby. Lincoln himself might as well be what his ex-dog Charles left in the backyard back at the place that he used to call home.

"Actually babe," Bobby began, "I was going to convince my mom that moving here may not be the best idea in the world." Hearing the Santiago boy say this got Lori, Ronnie Anne and Lincoln to turn to look at him. Shaking his head gently, Bobby explained, "Even before Mom, Ronnie Anne and I first came out here, I heard from Grandpa Hector over the phone about some violent gang in the city that's been causing all sorts of chaos, up to and including killing innocent kids."

"Oh yeah, I literally heard of them as well from the news," Lori remarked, "Aren't the gang members kids themselves?"

Nodding once in the affirmative, Bobby said to Lori while pointing to Ronnie Anne, "Not only that Babe, but Ronnie Anne came back saying something about how two of the gang members dragged her into an abandoned warehouse somewhere and were trying to force her to join under threat of getting beaten. She would have told me more, but that's around the time that me and Ronnie Anne's cousin Carlota came running in saying something about a kid collapsing on the sidewalk outside. You should know what happened from there."

As if acting on defensive instinct, Lori threw her arms around Lincoln and drew him into a hug. The boy did not know what to make of his ex-sister hugging him like this. "Ronnie Anne," Lori said in an unsure tone, "What…what were you going to say before your cousin…" Choking back more crying, Lori continued, "Before your cousin found Lincoln?" Ronnie Anne sparred no details about what happened next, from the hooded kid saving her and how the hooded kid did so, to that punk British girl that showed up, to Ronnie Anne making her way as quickly as she possibly out of that abandoned factory and running all the way back to the apartment.

"…After Bobby ran outside to check out what was going on with Carlota, he came back inside carrying Lincoln," Ronnie Anne said, "That's it." Her gaze shifting to Lincoln, Ronnie Anne continued, "Speaking of which, Lame-o. What were you doing collapsed outside? How did you even get here, considering that you clearly didn't come here with your sister?" The white-haired boy had to hold back a laugh when Ronnie Anne referred to Lori as his sister. That was a really good joke that Ronnie Anne just-

Lincoln's thought process was cut off midway through when he heard Lori sniffling as she cried, softly and gently, while still holding him in her arms. Was Lori afraid of what he was going to say? If the white-haired boy told the truth, then there was a fair chance that Bobby would not only dump Lori for her hand in driving Lincoln away, but might even take back what he said about convincing his mom not to move the family to this city, despite the concerns for Ronnie Anne's safety. Lincoln knew that, back during the early days of his new life in this city, if such an opportunity were presented to him, he'd take it without hesitation, just to enjoy the show that would be his ex-sister Lori's suffering.

…But now, he wouldn't even consider doing so. Don't get Lincoln wrong, he still harbors a deep resentment towards his ex-sister Lori. He harbors a deep resentment towards _the entirety_ of his ex-family (pets included), especially towards his sporty ex-sister who was the reason why they all decried him as 'bad luck' in the first place. No, the reason why Lincoln wouldn't bother ruining Lori's relationship with her Boo-Boo Bear is because, at this point, he just doesn't care enough to do so. And…and maybe he felt a _slight_ bit of hope? A bit of hope that he could, one day, learn to overcome his resentment, overcome his apathy, and re-acknowledge his ex-family as his family once again? A bit of hope that, to Lincoln's surprise, was inspired by how his ex-sister Lori cried over him as she held him in her arms? …There was only one real way to check to see if he really did have that bit of hope, however little it may be.

"I…" Lincoln began slowly, "…I ran away from home." Hearing this shocked Bobby and Ronnie Anne, not to mention making Lori sniffle some more out of sadness, knowing full well that she had a role in that mess.

"You ran away from home, bro?" Bobby asked in a shocked and concerned tone, not believing what he was hearing, "Why would you do that?"

"I ran away from home because…" Lincoln began, but stop short when he heard another soft cry from Lori, one that he could tell sounded with regret. Hoping that the cry was genuine, Lincoln said, "…Because I was being mistreated by some of my sisters."

"YOUR SISTERS MISTREATED YOU?!" Ronnie Anne shouted, clearly sounding upset in a way that she's looking to go out for blood.

"Some of them, yes," Lincoln replied, emphasizing the word 'some', "It wasn't an effort by the entire team, although the ones responsible managed to convince the others that it was just some sort of innocent game."

Bobby, with a suspicious look on his face, crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "What happened, exactly?"

"I was made to sleep in the backyard," Lincoln said, "And was even kicked out of the house entirely at one point." Hearing that drew shocked gasps from the Santiago siblings. His expression and tone taking on a bitter hint, Lincoln said, "Yeah. Lynn forced me to attend one of her games, even though I didn't want to, and when her team lost, she said that I was bad luck. That's how it all started."

With a mildly confused look on his face, Bobby said, "Umm, refresh my memory, bro, but Lynn is your thirteen-year-old sister who has multiples of those red-and-white jerseys for her roller derby team, right?"

Lincoln nodded once in the affirmative. "Okay, good," Bobby said with some seriousness returning to his tone, "Now you said that some of your sisters were involved. Who else besides Lynn had a hand in making your life a living hell?" The white-haired boy didn't blame Bobby for expecting him to name some names, but Lincoln was, to his surprise, finding himself to regret having said 'some of his sisters' in an attempt to keep from throwing Lori to the wolves. Was that bit of hope that he felt earlier really that strong? Might he really be able to eventually refer to his ex-family as his actual family at some point down the road?

Sighing, Lincoln decided to roll with it, using the first of his ex-sisters who came to mind for him. "Yeah," Lincoln said in a resigned tone, "Lynn got Lola, Luan and, surprisingly enough, Lisa in on it as well. That's it, though."

As Bobby and Ronnie Anne both hissed in frustration, Lori was unable to believe what was going on; ever since Lincoln ran away, the rest of the family, having come to realize everything that they had done, was beyond guilty for having driven Lincoln away. They even tried contacting the police, even though doing so would be putting themselves at serious risk because, when the police investigated, they would have found out _why_ the sole Loud boy ran away, and then the Loud family would be in a heap of trouble. The police, whether if it was unfortunate or fortunate for the Loud family considering what might have happened, failed to locate Lincoln.

And yet here Lori's little brother was; randomly popping up in the city the Santiagos were considering moving to, and was not only not giving the entire truth (Lori and the rest of the family had more or less just as much involvement with how Lincoln was treated prior to him running away), but he was withholding information that might have made Lori look unfavorable in her Boo-Boo Bear's eyes. Was…was Lincoln showing regret for having run away? No, there's no way that Lincoln should be regretting having done that, not after how he was treated; he was in the right as far as Lori was concerned. Maybe…maybe Lincoln might be trying to actually _forgive_ her and the rest of their family? Did they really deserve for Lincoln to forgive them, after decrying him as 'bad luck' and treating him the way that they did?

Daring to speak up, Lori said in a concerned tone, "Lincoln, I-"

"Don't beat yourself up, Lori," Lincoln interrupted her, his tone sounding with a mix of tiredness, resigned and calm. Shaking his head gently, Lincoln continued, "You were fooled just like the rest of our family."

"I'm kind of surprised that Lori actually fell for what your sisters pulled, though," Ronnie Anne said, getting Lincoln's attention, "I mean, isn't she in the same grade as Bobby?"

"Keep in mind that Lisa has a PhD and regularly gives lectures at the local college," Lincoln pointed out dryly, "It shouldn't be too difficult for a super-genius to fool anyone not at his or her level of intelligence." Ronnie Anne, as well as Bobby, nodded in understanding, having accepted Lincoln's explanation.

"There's just one last thing I'm wondering, though," Ronnie Anne continued, "What were you doing outside across the street from the apartment building?" Figuring that he might have been asked something along those lines, Lincoln had already come up with what he believed would be a reasonable excuse.

"I was getting back from working an odd job," Lincoln explained, "I had to do a number of odd jobs to earn money, as I was expecting to be living as a runaway for some time. But anyway, on my way back from the odd job, I was being chased by these two boys who looked roughly to be my age. They were dressed sort of like how I heard people describe the kids who belong to the local gang that has been causing trouble for everyone." Taking a breath, Lincoln added with a mild hint of fear in his tone, "They were saying how they were going to put me six feet under."

At that moment, the door to the apartment that Lincoln, Lori, Bobby and Ronnie Anne were in opened. "Kids, I'm back," an older female voice called out. It was clear that it was a voice that the Santiago siblings were familiar with, because both of them ran over to the front door while calling out for their mother.

Lincoln and Lori watch as Bobby and Ronnie Anne told their mother about everything that happened concerning Ronnie Anne being threatened into joining the local gang and how Lincoln, who had run away, turned up in the city as he was being chased by two of the gang members who said they were going to kill him. As the two Santiago siblings struggled to be heard over each other, Lincoln turned to regard his ex-sister. Noticing that he was looking at her, Lori turned to regard Lincoln in return. The oldest Loud sibling could see the tired look on her little brother's face; the tired, almost sad look of someone who was resigned to deal with the life that had been forced upon him because of the lack of competence or care of the people who were supposed to be his family.

Lori also saw Lincoln's eyelids slowly close. After they did, he fell against her as he gently drifted off to sleep. Lori cried again, a mix of regret and relief, as she held her little brother in her arms. And that's it; Lori just sat there and cried.

She cried for the little brother she nearly lost.

* * *

When he woke up, Lincoln found himself sitting in the front passenger seat of Vanzilla as it was driving, with Lori at the driver's seat. Looking out the window, Lincoln saw that it was getting late. Turning his head to the side, Lincoln said in a tired and quiet tone, "What happened?"

"Oh, you're awake," Lori said, her tone clearly indicating that she was happy that Lincoln was okay, "Yeah, Bobby and Ronnie Anne literally told their mother about how Ronnie Anne was almost beaten until she agreed to join some gang, and about how you were nearly…" Stopping short to choke back some crying, Lori continued, "…How you were nearly killed by two of the gang members yourself. Combined with what their grandfather said about what the gang has been doing in the city along with how the police are doing nothing about it, Mrs. Santiago decided not to move her, Bobby and Ronnie Anne to the city after all, thinking that it's far too dangerous a place for Ronnie Anne to grow up in."

"So, they'll be staying in Royal Woods?" Lincoln asked. After Lori nodded a few times in the affirmative, Lincoln said, "…Good. That's…good." Gently shaking his head, Lincoln said, "It'd be bad if they moved, especially since Bobby is one of the best things to ever happen to you."

"That's…something I've been meaning to ask about," Lori said in a concerned tone, never taking her eyes off of the road, "When Bobby was asking you why you ran away, why did you say that only some of us made your life miserable, when all of us had a hand in it to some extent?"

"You got a point," Lincoln remarked, "About how you and the rest of your family had just as much of a hand in making me suffer before I ran away. There was a time, while I was living on my own, how I probably would have told Bobby every last bit of the truth if he had asked me, and then let him deal with you as he saw fit." Sighing in a resigned tone, Lincoln continued, "But at this point, I just don't care enough to do anything along those lines to either you or any of your sisters." Lori was upset by what Lincoln had said, but not because he admitted that he would have contemplated prompting Bobby to break up with her; as far as Lori was concerned, she would have had that coming. What made Lori upset was that Lincoln had referred to their sisters and family as _her_ sisters and _her_ family. Not _theirs_ , _hers_. Lincoln didn't consider them as his family anymore.

Just the thought of that made Lori's heart break.

"Then why…" Lori said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled not to cry, "…Why would you go through all that trouble for me?" As far as Lori could tell, her own little brother saw her as nothing more than a complete stranger. Why would he go through such lengths for her?

Sighing, Lincoln said, "When I slowly came to in the apartment where Ronnie Anne's family was living, I noticed that, before I even opened my eyes, that someone was holding me. Crying over me. I could tell from the tone of that person that they were regretful, that they were genuinely upset with what happened to me." As he was looking out the window, Lincoln turned his head so he could face Lori again. "…Am I right to think that?" Lincoln asked, a hint of somberness in his very tired tone, " _Is_ that person regretful? _Were_ they genuinely upset with what happened to me?"

"Yes," Lori replied, instantly and without hesitation.

Sighing, Lincoln said as he turned back to look out the passenger side window, "…Yeah. I don't really know what I was thinking, but I…I thought that you and the rest of your family might be worth giving a chance. A chance for you to prove to me that you all are my family as well." Turning his head back around to face Lori once again, the white-haired boy added with a slight chuckle, "I mean, I was pretty tired when I decided to give you and the rest of your family that chance, so I hope that I wasn't acting out of delirium."

"No, no you weren't," Lori said as she reassured her little brother; she may not know about the rest of the Loud family, but she'd damn herself if she didn't do anything to try and make it up to Lincoln for her part in how he was treated prior to running away. As she was reassuring Lincoln, Lori had another question concerning what Lincoln had said back at the Casagrande family's apartment. "Lincoln," Lori began with a mild hint of nervousness, "When Bobby asked about why you ran away, you said that only Lynn, Lola, Luan and Lisa were responsible. Why them?"

"Like I said earlier, I didn't care enough to risk your relationship with Bobby," Lincoln began to explain in a tired, resigned tone, "But from what Bobby was asking me, he was expecting me to name some names. Those girls were literally the first ones who came to mind for me at the time." Sighing, Lincoln remarked, "I feel guilty about having to throw Lola, Luan and Lisa under the bus like that." There it was again, Lincoln realized to his surprise; regret for putting some of his ex-sisters in an unfavorable position like that. His hope (dare he even feel any hope at all?) that he one day may be able to call them his family once again was growing, if only barely just.

With a mildly confused look on her face, Lori asked, "What about Lynn?"

"What _about_ Lynn?" Lincoln replied, any emotion in his tone being replaced entirely with bitterness. Sighing in a resigned tone, the white-haired boy continued, "Lisa has that video surveillance system in the house, right? And it goes back at least to the day that all of that bad luck nonsense started, right?"

"Right on both counts," Lori replied, "In fact, it goes back to just shortly after Lisa turned two."

Giving a grunt of acknowledgement in response, Lincoln said, "…Yeah. If you want a more detailed explanation about how I feel about Lynn, ask Lisa to review her footage from the morning of that softball game where Lynn started saying I was bad luck."

"Alright," Lori replied, having a feeling that she was not going to enjoy what she would be seeing in the recording from that morning. With a mild hint of trepidation in her tone, Lori said, "Is there anything else?"

"…I'm kind of hungry," Lincoln replied.

Letting out a chuckle, Lori said, "Yeah, I'm kind of peckish myself, now that you mention it." With a quick look around as she drove down the road back to Royal Woods, Lori spotted a place to eat at in a fairly small shopping square. "There's a taco place over there," Lori remarked to her little brother, "And we're literally not going to get back within a reasonable time for dinner, so do you wanna stop over there and get something to eat? My treat."

"…Sure," Lincoln replied, surprised to find himself smiling, as small of a smile as it may have been. As Lori proceeded to head towards the taco place she spotted, Lincoln wondered what would happen from here on out, seeing as how he was returning to a place that he thought that he wouldn't be returning to ever again, to live with people that he thought wouldn't be his family ever again.

…Or maybe they will.

END, BROKEN MIRROR

Author's notes:

As I was working on this story, I realized that I was never even considering adding an important part to the overall storyline; Lincoln reconciling with his family. I realized this when I checked out the reviews that this story got, with those reviews wondering if Lincoln would reconcile with his family. With that in mind, an idea for a follow up story sparked in my mind; as I worked out more and more of this story, more and more of the idea for the follow up story continued to develop. That being said, I'm going to be working on the story that will serve as the follow up to 'Broken Mirror'; I even have a few chapters written out, and all they need is some fine tuning. But yeah, thanks for all of the support everyone.

I'll be seeing you all next time.


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